Whispers of the Lost Shadow
by ardee
Summary: Two years have passed since Goku left with Shenron. There's an intergalactic tournament on Namek, and the Z-Fighters are feeling uneasy about it. As if to confirm their fears, some terrifyingly familiar ki's fill the air. Will they be able to handle these threats again, but without Goku? And what's this? The First? He's alive? Even if Goku returns, can such a power be overcome?
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

**So this is just an experiment. As my regular readers no, I've been having difficulty writing my YuGiOh story. Rather than not write along and just extend the amount of time I've been off the site, I decided to try another fandom rather close to my heart.**

**This is very short by my normal standards, the next chapter will be at least 4-5 times as long, don't worry. Just wanted to see reactions.**

Hell. Lucifer's lair. The Underworld. It has a thousand different names, each one more distasteful than the last, but not one of these can mask it's true nature. The commonly used one, the Home for Infinite Losers, would make one think that this realm was just a collection of laughable rabble and wannabe villains through history who just never made the cut.

Such a notion could not have been more inaccurate. Of course, it was partially inhabited by a mass of individuals who led a life of debauchery and selfishness, but were never able to quite do any serious harm. They were consigned there merely because they never performed a single meritious act, ensuring they were kept out of Heaven, not because any of their actions were particularly vicious and distasteful.

But then, there were a selection of creatures in there even the Devil would fear. Beings that had defined the word evil from the day they were born until they were felled by whichever hero in an incident from which legend was later born. Individuals who knew not the meaning of mercy, compassion, or even of the concept that others existed other than themselves who's satisfaction was relevant to the cosmos.

Two such less than notable nefarious characters had taken some time to speak to each other over the years. As they spoke, they began to realize their lives, and ironically, their deaths, were intertwined in more ways than one.

They were the Saiyan, and the Namek.

The Saiyan was from a race that emphasized brutality over all things else. The Saiyan rule was death before surrender. One did not stop until one had crushed his enemy, or his enemy crushed him. And if the latter happened, then one pushed oneself to one's limit until one was ready to return to battle and reap revenge. The Saiyan brought raw, inspired strength to the table and little else. But that strength was enough in most cases.

The Namek was a different breed. His race was inherently quite peaceful, having fought their first major battle in eons just decades ago. Even though their planet was beautiful, it was lacking in visible natural resources, and not very large to begin with. However, few races were as resourceful and intelligent as the Namekians. Through the mere fact that their planet received 24 hours of sunlight, every day of the year, they constructed one of the most advanced and impressive civilizations from the ground up.

This particular Namekian had every ounce of that sheer cunning, but sprinkled on top was a dash of viciousness and sadism that would have made even an Arcosian blush. He was by no means weak, but compared to some of Hell's other residents his raw power was a little underwhelming. But in a battle of wits, few in the Underworld would try outsmarting him.

They first met almost thirty years prior to the time of telling. The Saiyan had just been through a highly undignified experience for a man of his stature. After being held down by his own brother while being killed by a green skinned freak, he had been locked away by a port-bellied idiot in a ridiculous purple suit and then dumped in what his jailers seemed content to remind him was the Home for Infinite Losers.

So imagine the Saiyan's chagrin when he saw that same green skinned freak leaning against a large rock, sipping from a glass that contained an unusual looking black liquid that even the Saiyan had no desire to find out more about.

He lost it there and then.

"You overgrown lizard! Looks like you did die of the wounds I inflicted on you after all but this is just the start of it for you, buddy! I was hurt on my way here and I'm going to make sure you're hurt a thousand times worse!"

The creature looked up and arced an eyebrow. He was just about to reply that he had no clue what the stranger was talking about, that if he desired to have a pleasent stay in Hell it would be best to keep to himself, and recommend a visit to the Beezlebub Barber Shop, when he suffered a gigantic punch to the gut.

Before he could react, the traumatized new arrival pivoted and caught him on the chin with a huge kick.

The Namekian landed in a crouch and cursed.

"Oh no you don't!" roared his opponent, as he began to stand. "I'm not going to give you any time to pull that Special Beam crap this time...!"

This time, his opponent was ready. He caught the punch in his right hand. It impacted like a burning brand, but he had trained, he was capable of handling this kind of warrior.

Then it hit him. "Special Beam..? Special Beam Cannon, you mean?"

"Of course, you'd know," snapped the Saiyan. "Considering you just pulled the cheapest of cheap maneveurs by having my godforsaken brother hold me down while you took your time to charge it up-..."

He was cut off by a crisp uppercut to the mouth, flooring him.

"Silence," uttered the green warrior. "The Special Beam Cannon was a technique I never mastered. The only other individual in the living cosmos with knowledge of it was my son, a Namekian living on Earth."

The Saiyan stood up and fixed him with a hard glare.

"I don't care if you have children, you mite, I'm going to tear you limb from limb-..."

He stopped short.

The Namekian smiled dryly. "Your visage is drearily familiar. This brother you speak of wouldn't happen to be a certain Son Goku, would it?"

The Saiyan grunted. "I take it he gets around."

The Namekian growled and lifted his purple gi, revealing a gigantic scar across his stomach.

"He was barely a child when he tore right through me."

The Saiyan pulled his armor to one side. A similar mark adorned his chest, only this one was smaller and more concentrated.

"A Namek named Piccolo blasted me here not an hour ago."

His opposite number let out a dark chuckle. "Yes, that would be the one who's egg I regurgitated seconds before I landed in this hole in the ground."

His expression then turned to one of rage.

"Did you say Son Goku held you down and _allowed _my son to kill you?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," snapped the Saiyan. "They started off rather frosty but by the end of it they were working together like best of buds. Nappa himself would've had a hard time-..."

He was again cut off by a shriek of fury, and a small explosion as the Namek fired a black sphere in the direction of a large rock.

"Such _treachery_," he bellowed to no one in particular. "I give you life, and all I ask in return is the murder of my killer, and in response you _ally _yourself with him? This cannot, WILL NOT go unpunished!"

He took out his frustration on another innocent rock.

The Saiyan had sat down in a heap.

"You're not the only one with family problems, green man. Take it easy. Both Kakarot and your delinquent brat will be here soon, my allies will arrive in a year and make short work of them."

The Namek smiled sadistically. "Then there is no time as the present to commence a plan of vengence."

The Saiyan met this with a mutual bark-like laugh of hatred.

He trudged to his feet.

"Normally I'd kill someone for bringing me this kind of news, but seeing as we have some mutual cause here..."

The Namekian extended his hand. "Demon King Piccolo."

The Saiyan considered, and then shook it. "Raditz. One of the last four pure blooded Saiyans."

"_I guess there's three now, if this guy's son was right about Kakarot being wished back to life," _he mused to himself.

"Let's go mutilate some weaklings. I find that therapeutic after being killed in an undignified fashion."

Raditz never even _thought _about the Dragon Balls again until that fateful day, decades later, when an unknowable amount of time spent plotting revenge finally came to a head.


	2. A Change of Pace

CHAPTER ONE: A Change of Pace

"How much are we training under?" enquired Trunks.

Vegeta had strapped on his deep blue spandex, and was pulling the stark white Saiyan boots on.

"Four hundred and fifty times normal gravity."

His twenty-six year old son nodded numbly. The last time he'd entered with his father, the Saiyan Prince had toggled it up to four hundred and twenty five. Trunks had lasted barely two minutes, and then spent two days recuperating. However, he knew better than to argue with the man. If you wanted to train with him, you did so at his whims and fancies. And privately, Trunks knew that if he wanted to have anywhere near the power and responsibility his father did, he needed to push himself.

Silently, they made their way to the dome shaped Gravity Chamber.

Upon entering, it was completely dark. Vegeta flicked a switch on the side of the room, bathing the room in a very dim red light.

Trunks bent to touch the ground, hoping to commence a warm-up routine, when his father immediately went over to the machine in the middle and turned the dial all the way up to a hundred and fifty.

Trunks almost immediately felt a dull pang in his centre of gravity, near the small of his back. He didn't utter a word however, after all, Vegeta didn't even seem to register it as he collapsed onto the index digit of his right hand and commenced a set of finger push-ups.

Trunks wasn't big on weight-based exercises in general, as his advantage had always been quickness on his feet and reaction time.

Instead, he stretched all four limbs as hard as possible, and threw some warm up punches into the air.

"If you're done with borrowing routines from your mother's gym DVDs," growled Vegeta. "We'll begin."

Trunks went a light shade of red but said nothing as the Prince turned back to the gravity machine and toggled it all the way up to four hundred.

Trunks felt like he had been hit by a train. He immediately collapsed onto one knee, and felt it difficult to breathe.

Vegeta seemed like he didn't even feel it. He stretched his arms out.

"Are you going to attack me, or what?"

Trunks let out a growl and forced himself up. Every step was a labour, but he crossed the distance between them in a short second and threw the first punch, a right jab to the head.

Vegeta ducked to the left with ease, and slammed his elbow upward. Trunks brought his left hand up to block it, but the sheer force was jarring, and almost knocked him off his feet once more.

Almost immediately, it was followed up by a right hook, which Trunks avoided by inches by shifting his body, and then an uppercut which he managed to block again. He raised his hand for a jab, but almost immediately found himself having to fend off a rain of perfectly co-ordinated blows his father was throwing with absurd ease.

He was on the absolute defensive right now. His lavender hair was flying around as he concentrated back to the basic defensive drills his father had instilled in him before the World Tournament before the Majin Buu incident. It all came down to technique. Even a year ago, one in every two blows would have found its mark. Now, Trunks was actually doing a decent job of keeping his eye on his father's fist well and either dodging or blocking every blow.

A small smirk crossed Vegeta's face. Almost instantly, though inevitably, his next blow went crashing through his son's defenses and found it's mark at his chin.

Trunks fell backward in a heap, but immediately sprung upward, ignoring the blood trailing the cut on his chin.

Vegeta was after him like lightning, this time using his right foot in a deadly effective drop-kick maneuver he had more or less trademarked.

Trunks had encountered it enough times to know how to counter though. He crossed his arms across his chest, where the kick landed. Then, immediately, ignoring the pain, he leaned forward and delivered a powerful head-butt _smack _in his father's face.

Vegeta landed back perfectly on his feet and gave a full grin.

He then immediately charged forward again. This time, Trunks was too slow. He tried to catch the punch, but it hit him full in the gut. Vegeta followed it up with an elbow to the collar-bone, and then a smashing roundhouse kick which threw Trunks to the floor.

Trunks staggered to his feet and let out a snarl of frustration. A faint golden aura appeared around him for a moment.

Vegeta looked at him, bemused.

"Come now, boy. If you transform, I'll just do the same, and then you're screwed fifty times worse than you originally were."

Trunks shook his head vigorously. "Despite what you may think, Father, I _do _have a trick or two up my sleeve you don't know about."

Vegeta shook his head patronizingly. "Ok, boy, it's your funeral."

Trunks smirked back, and clenched his fists tight. He let out a subconscious battle cry, and suddenly his hair began to stand up and turn golden. His eyes turned blue as well.

Vegeta didn't even clench his fists. His arms remained crossed around his chest. He just closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them he was already in the fabled Super Saiyan state.

The two rushed at each other again. Right now, the four hundred times normal gravity was almost nothing to them. Being in the superior version of their race's physiological state increased their speed and power by numerous times. It meant that even though Vegeta's power advantage had increased dramatically past what it had been, Trunks' own strength, not relative to his opponent's, was now enough for him to actually put into action the theoretical moves he had devised to fight against his father.

They sparred on for another ten minutes. Trunks landed a few more blows, but Vegeta's advantage was still very apparent.

When they split apart, Trunks decided to put his plan into action.

He closed his eyes, still keenly aware of his father's position, not that he needed to be. It wasn't like Vegeta to take advantage of someone in that situation, he wanted to beat people at their strongest.

He could feel the Super Saiyan energy within him, like warm water. He tensed his muscles, and began to force the energy into them. He let out a deep, primal roar as his muscles began to expand past their normal limits. His biceps, normally a respectable seventeen inches, erupted to over twenty-two. His training vest strained as his chest expanded as well, and his hair grew even stiffer. Each strand was standing up in a different direction. His aura exploded.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a rare thing in his father's eyes. Approval.

"The Ascended Super Saiyan transformation. Well done, boy. You're nine years ahead of me."

Trunks was tempted to reply that his original Super Saiyan transformation was a good _twenty-five_ years ahead of his father, but he knew better.

"Gohan helped me with it," he explained. "I knew there was something beyond Super Saiyan, I could feel it, but…"

Vegeta nodded. Earlier, he'd have been infuriated that Trunks had taken the help of Kakarot's brat to further his own strength.

But ever since the foolish Saiyan had left for Yemma knew where, Vegeta had been forced to re-evaluate his opinion of Gohan. The hybrid Saiyan had taken his role as his father's son quite seriously, and immersed himself in training whenever he was not handling the role of a family man, a balancing act Vegeta knew only too well.

It was strange considering the boy, no, man, he was thirty five after all, Vegeta reminded himself, had not thrown a practice punch since he had defeated Cell. However, the apparently permanent departure of his father had left a massive, gaping hole in the structure of Earth's Z-fighters. It was a hole not one of them could fill by himself, and the prospect of it intimidated all of them. In less than a year, Kakarot had killed a vengeful Tuffle, an android that made Cell look weak, and a bunch of pure energy negative dragons that were more powerful than anything they had ever faced before. It had taken the Z-fighters a few days to realize that few of them had lifted a finger in the Earth's defense recently. That had to change. This resulted in everyone, from Vegeta to Tien, throwing themselves into their workouts as often as possible.

And for those to whom Goku was more than just a friend, a father in the Son brother's case, and a lifelong rival, an ideal to strive toward, and the last remaining member of his race, in Vegeta's case, the training was also a means of coping with loss. Vegeta would never admit it, but Kakarot's departure had hit him very hard on a personal level. It was not that he missed the joyful clown's personality, dear God, no. It was that he had never gotten to test himself one more time.

So, internally, Vegeta resolved that when he ran into Kakarot again one day, he'd be prepared for the fight that he never got.

As for Gohan, he had somewhat handled this before. Immediately after Goku's death in the battle against Cell, the responsibility of being Earth's most powerful had been thrust on his young shoulders. However, it had been different back then. He was coming off a massive confidence boost; killing the perfect fighter was no easy feat. He had a baby brother to occupy him, his mother helped him by immersing him in academics, and more importantly, he already had a literal father standing by him in Piccolo.

The double blow of losing Piccolo and Goku one after the other had been hard on Gohan. It was a burden neither his wife nor his mother could understand. Gohan's academic life had dissolved into a lot of training with Goten and Pan. He internally seemed to have decided to focus on fighting, as his father did, but not to neglect his child. It worked pretty well. His wife, unlike Chi Chi, was a former professional fighter too and didn't mind his training their child. This way, he spent time with his daughter and was able to do the only thing that helped ease his mind.

Once every two months, Vegeta, Trunks, and Bra (when he was able to get her out of the mall), met Gohan, Goten and Pan for an evaluation. Typically, Gohan took on Vegeta, Goten did Trunks, while Pan and Bra sat in a corner and gossiped about Yemma knew what.

Vegeta had initially been quite disinterested in the idea of a corny group spar, but after fighting the rejuvenated (in a fighting sense) Gohan a few times, he realized that the first son of Kakarot was easily his biggest challenge on the planet. He could deal with the disgusting concept of a reunion (Pan and Bra had taken to calling it that), as long as he got to test himself.

"All right, boy," he replied to Trunks, finally. "Let me see what you've got. You do remember this form is a last resort?"

Trunks shook his head. "I know my history, dad. The Ascended Super Saiyan state is one that gives the user a massive boost in power in return for a very small loss in speed. It's the type of loss that would be significant only if you're fighting someone like Cell, who could really be anywhere he wanted if I correctly remember what you told me about his fighting style."

Vegeta nodded. "And the Ultra Super Saiyan….?"

"Is a transformation I should never touch," recited Trunks from memory. "Unless my opponent is a Broly-like freak of nature, and the extra muscle is the only way to survive."

He shuddered to himself at the thought of the Legendary Super Saiyan. Fighting him at the age of eight was the worst introduction to the Super Saiyan world possible.

"So you seem to know your theory pretty well," replied Vegeta dryly, though a grin was still present on his face. "Let me see you put it into action."

He drew his right fist back to his chest, and extended his left one to lead with, the traditional fighting stance. Trunks adopted the same pose, and the fighters locked eyes.

Just as the younger Saiyan was about to throw the first punch, there was a dull thud on the door of the Gravity Chamber.

Vegeta let out a low curse. Trunks looked bemused.

"We'll be there in a second, mom!"

Both of them dropped out of their transformations, and Vegeta switched off the gravity machine. This let out a loud beep, which was a cue for the door to open.

Bulma was standing there in her regular white T-Shirt and pants.

Vegeta gave her a glare. "Why are you bothering us?"

She rolled her eyes, very used to his tantrums.

"There's a video message for the both of you from Mr. Satan."

Vegeta looked even more infuriated. "You interrupt our training session because that _idiot_ wants to talk to us? I'll light his goddamn wig on fire-…."

Bulma interrupted him again. She was the only person around now that Goku was gone who dared to speak to him out of turn. Of course, she did it because he didn't dare voice his displeasure to her considering she maintained the Gravity Chamber. Goku did it out of sheer obliviousness.

"I don't think you'll be looking to do that considering the fact that he wants to invite you'll to an intergalactic tournament on New Namek he's hosting as a part of his attempt to further the Satan brand to other planets."

She said the last part with a dry sarcasm neither of them noted. Vegeta's eyes shot open. Trunks looked very surprised too.

"An _intergalactic_ tournament?"

She nodded vigorously. "Come on, let me show you the full video."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gohan ducked underneath his daughter's right cross, and grabbed her fist in his right hand. Before she could react, he had thrown her backward into the oncoming Goten with a flick of his wrist. Uncle and niece landed on the ground at the top of Mt. Paozu, which had become their usual workout spot. It reminded Gohan of his father and Piccolo training him for the arrival of the androids, almost thirty years ago.

Gohan was still in his base form, while Goten was at his max in regular Super Saiyan. Pan hadn't transformed yet, but was pushing it to the absolute limit. It was still nowhere near enough though. If there was anyone who had slacked off more than Gohan before Goku left, it had been Goten. Gohan privately estimated that by the end of the battle with the Shadow Dragons, Goten probably was only a bit stronger than Goku had been when he transformed into a Super Saiyan for the first time against Frieza.

It was not as if Gohan blamed him though. All of them had been occupied with other things, and when someone as powerful as Goku was around to keep things in order, it almost felt redundant trying to help him. Of course, now that was that, and the important thing was to try to correct that attitude.

"Come on, Goten," growled Gohan. "Trunks hit Ascended Super Saiyan the other day. He's left you behind in the dust."

It was good-natured ribbing of course, but Goten took it as motivation.

He gently moved Pan off and clasped his fists. He knew he was as at his limit, but it wasn't anywhere near enough. Even though Gohan hadn't trained for a long time either, the amount of latent power he had was gigantic. It was the sole reason he could almost go toe to toe with Vegeta, a workout maniac, just a few weeks after getting back into fighting.

"Get him, Uncle Goten," said Pan gleefully, sliding into a fighting stance.

Goten nodded, and flared out his aura further. As hard as he pushed it, he just couldn't find that next level of strength that pretty much everyone else had achieved.

He let out a growl of frustration.

"_What the hell, I'm not getting better by just standing here_…"

He was about to charge forward again, when a holler came from behind the trees framing the clearing they were using.

It was Videl. "Gohan, Pan, Goten, come back to the house! My dad's got a message for you guys!"

Gohan and Goten met each other's eyes with a dismayed look that Pan was oblivious to. Fact was, neither of them really cared much for Hercule. The Z-fighters tolerated his extravagant ways from time to time, but less so now that the tempering presence of Goku was gone. Deep down, they were extremely annoyed with the fact that the true hero of the Universe was going to be forgotten forever, and that irascible human was getting all kinds of plaudits he never deserved in the first place.

Of course, Gohan kept silent about this in his wife's presence, because he knew that deep down, Satan was not a truly bad man. Though prone to cowardice and greed, he _did _care about protecting the innocent, and it seemed he actually believed that his almost God-like status on Earth provided the people of Earth with a kind of hero to look up to in a positive way. This was why Gohan kept quiet about his irritation.

"We're coming," he called back.

He nodded to Goten, who reluctantly dropped out of Super Saiyan.

The trio lifted slightly into the air and made their way to back to their home. Chi Chi and Videl were sitting in front of the TV, ready to hit play on the DVD player which contained the much bally-hooed message.

Gohan bent down to hug his mother good morning, a gesture she appreciated. She had dealt with the loss of her husband not once, not twice, but five times. That didn't make it any less painful. If Gohan ever met his dad again, the first thing he would do would be to hug the pure blooded Saiyan, then punch him twice: once for himself, once for his mother.

The fifty-five year old lady had dealt with a lot of hardships in life. Gohan knew that it was now his responsibility to make it easy for her here on out. Her dream of his being a reputed scholar was already fulfilled, so whenever he wasn't training, he made it a point to spend time with her.

"I've got some new rice cakes for my boys," she said gleefully. "Sit yourselves down, and I'll give it to you once we watch this."

Both Gohan and Goten immediately brightened up at this. No situation was too dire to enjoy their mother's admittedly brilliant cooking.

Videl smiled at her husband as their daughter leapt onto the couch between them, and then clicked on the video.

The unmistakable bearded face of the seven time World Martial Arts champion appeared grinning on the screen. He was dressed in his usual brown fighting garb.

"Right, so you're probably wondering why I, Martial Arts champ on the world, have decided to contact little old you!"

Gohan rolled his eyes and the others tried to stifle laughs.

"Well, it's just because I've seen something in you! That's right boys and girls, I think you've got potential, and I'm going to give you an opportunity to show it!"

He stood back with a flourish. The screen now depicted a hologram of New Namek, a perennially green planet behind Satan.

"In exactly two weeks, Satan Incorporated will be flying _you_," he pointed his finger dramatically to the camera, "to a world you couldn't even dream about! Sunlight all day, every day! Endless forests, water you can see your reflection in!"

A grin plastered itself across his face.

"But all that fairy-tale stuff is so overrated, don't ya think? Of course! The main event is going to be round after round of butt-kicking, jaw-breaking, ass-whooping fights!"

The camera changed to a scene from the latest edition of the World Martial Arts tournament, featuring the final between Satan himself and Uub. Every Z-fighter was very familiar with this, because it was probably the sixth final in a row between Satan and Majin Buu in some form or another which had been purposely thrown for Satan to retain his crown.

As Satan prepared for the 'final blow' to knock his young opponent out of the ring, the voiceover continued.

"The only difference is, this time we've got fighters from all over the galaxy! Yeah boys and girls, that's right, we're going to see _aliens_ of every breed duking it out for one thing…"

His voice paused dramatically, as he posed triumphantly in the video after his 'knockout' of Uub.

"The honour of fighting the champ himself, Hercule Satan, _in his last fight ever_!"

Everyone was a bit taken aback by this.

The camera changed back to Satan's face. He looked grave. "Yeah, you heard! This is my swansong tournament, like it or not. So, to all my loyal fans, don't miss this!"

He flashed his massive grin again. "And to the fighter who's eventually gonna win and face me…. Don't think this means I'm going to take it easy on ya!"

He flashed a victory sign, and then the screen went blank.

Gohan and Goten stared at each other.

Normally Goten wouldn't have said this in front of his sister-in-law, but this time he couldn't stop himself. "What does he think? We've thrown fights to him every single tournament, but some damn alien from a star system light years away isn't going to care how famous he is."

Videl looked mortified as well but then a smile crept onto her face.

"He knows you've been training, Gohan," she chuckled. "I think this is a vote of confidence that either you or Vegeta would be able to take care of any extra-terrestrial fighter you came across who could pose a threat to him."

Gohan chuckled at this as well. "Yeah, I've got to admit this would be an interesting test. We've been working ever since Dad left, maybe now we can see how far we've actually progressed."

Goten looked affronted though. "What do you mean, Gohan or Vegeta?! I've been training too!" he informed Videl.

His mother, brother and sister-in-law all tried to stifle laughs.

Pan obliviously jumped in. "Uncle Goten, Dad told me he thinks I'm stronger than you in base!"

The young hybrid got even more annoyed. "Yeah? Well come on then, kid, let's take this outside!"

Everyone began laughing in full swing now. It was the first time in a long time, and Gohan had to admit, it felt good.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raditz curled his fingers into a spiny fist, and narrowed his eyes. The green shape was materializing and dematerializing tantalizingly, just a few meters from him, almost daring him to strike. He knew, however, his timing had to be perfect. He had to strike just as soon as Piccolo Daimao reappeared, otherwise he'd get an extended hand slashing right into his gut.

He blocked out the general noise of Hell's other inhabitants going about their daily lives, and concentrated only on his opponent. He allowed the ki to flow into every part of his body, particularly his eyes. As he did so, the green shape seemed to slow. After a few more seconds, it almost seemed like it was spending an extended amount of time in one place.

That was his cue. The next time the shape reappeared, he snapped forward and unleashed a massive uppercut, knocking the Demon King out of his dance and down to his feet.

The evil Namekian immediately got to his feet.

"Took you long enough," he growled.

Raditz flexed his knuckles. They'd been at it for two and a half days. He was hungry.

As if on cue, his stomach let out a massive growl.

Piccolo Daimao gave him a withering look.

"Try and come within five feet of me when you're hungry and I'll hit you with a Special Beam Cannon through your heart."

"I'm always hungry!" snapped back Raditz. "The food in this place sucks."

"What do you expect?" replied King Piccolo dryly, sitting down on a rock. "Those blue buffoons would serve you anything other than their skull soup speciality? Even your delinquent brother didn't get anything better."

Raditz let out a small snarl.

"I'm just _sick_ of this dump. It's been forty-one goddamn years. If your damn son wasn't so powerful…."

King Piccolo's fist tightened but he shook his head.

"Guardian of Hell he may be… But it doesn't matter one bit. Yemma's got seals on this place like you wouldn't believe. It doesn't matter how strong you are, the seals only differentiate between the living and the dead. The only way out is if you're alive or some freakshow shows up, like that demon Janemba, who is powerful enough to warp the seals with his mere presence. Figure out a way to get us alive, and we'll be out of here."

"Well you're the one who was able to become eternally young," snapped back Raditz. "Figure it out for yourself!"

He gave a cruel smile. "Well, not _really_ eternally…"

King Piccolo drew back his hand. "If you want to go there, boy, believe me, I'd be only too glad…"

"Oh, shut up, old man," sighed Raditz. "I'm done for now, I'm going to find something to eat."

With that, he stalked off, rubbing his knuckles. King Piccolo continued to sit where he was, seething at first, but then absorbed in some deep thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raditz returned some two hours later, chewing on an unusual looking meat attached to a bone. He didn't know what it was, but after over forty years in Hell, he had learnt that one was better off not asking. Came down to whether or not you preferred your gastric system to remain intact by refraining from excessive regurgitation. Not that one _needed_ to eat when one was dead, per say, but the Saiyan desire for nutrition carried over very clearly.

"So, old timer," he rasped, dropping the bone and cracking his knuckles. "Ready to go again?"

The Demon King didn't respond immediately.

Raditz cleared his throat. "Are you up for a spar or not?"

King Piccolo looked up at him.

"I've been thinking."

Raditz stared at him. "Yeah, so was I, about something I could sink my teeth into. Now I'm not, so let's-…"

"Shut _up_ you fool," hissed King Piccolo.

Raditz narrowed his eyes. "Ok, about what, old man?"

The other man drummed his fingers on the rock he was sitting against.

"You told me to figure out how we could be alive again."

His face broke into a grin. "I think I did just that."

Raditz stopped short of another sarcastic remark. If he wasn't already dead, his heart would have stopped beating right then.

"You think you can get us _alive_ again?"

King Piccolo nodded, slowly.

"When you were gone stuffing your face, I was bored, so I decided to lucid dream."

Raditz nodded numbly. He knew of the incredible Namekian intellect, which at times allowed them to sift through any and all memories they had ever had. It was on a purely random basis though. The Namekian mind was like a die with dozens of sides, and when they decided to indulge in lucid dreaming, the die was rolled and any memory was pulled out of the filing cabinet depending on which side came up. In essence, every experience a Namekian underwent was stored subconsciously in his mind. This was a part of their evolutionary design because during the incredibly long, though rare, Namekian winter, hibernation was often the only solution for survival, and lucid dreaming helped keep them in a state of unconsciousness.

"So, I chanced upon a rather interesting memory. It wasn't really mine, per say."

Raditz nodded. The Namek had recounted the story of his prior existence as one being, along with Kami, the former Guardian of Earth, before they were separated.

"My previous form, the Nameless Namek, as he's known to others, engaged in some rather interesting activities before he gave way to my glory. Activities that involved certain spheres."

His grin widened.

"Seven spheres, specifically."

Raditz's jaw dropped. "Are you saying…. He created a set of Dragon Balls?!"

King Piccolo's razor-like teeth were showing. "As a matter of fact, he did. And with the experience I just recounted through my memory, I think I know how to make a set for myself."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**So there you have it! Told you it'd be longer. It feels really refreshing to be able to write with such carefree abandon. Please tell me what you think, guys!**


	3. Blight

CHAPTER TWO: Blight

**And here it is! I can't remember the last time writing came so easy to me, boy am I glad I commenced this story.**

**Craig: We discussed the points you mentioned on MSN, though I will explain them as a part of the narrative in any case at some point.**

**Warriorofdark: Hopefully I will! Thank you very much!**

**Reaver72: The point about King Piccolo being dead will be elaborated on in this chapter and further explained in the next. As for Gohan, GT did screw up badly. I have plans, just keeping them mum for now.**

**AnimeMaster24: Don't you worry child, Heaven's got a plan-… I mean, Hell's got a plan in this case :D I wish the chapters could be shorter, but I'm in the middle of finals right now and this is the only means of relaxation I have, so uploading chapters as soon as I can is the priority. Once they're done I'll try to revert to my usual 10-12 thousand word chapters, or even 8-9 at least.**

In the Brief household, Vegeta's family sat around the TV. The message from Hercule had just finished, and everyone was contemplating what they just heard.

Bulma spoke up first. "Well, isn't _that _an interesting bit of news! Can you imagine seeing the Namekians again? It's been decades! I wonder how Moori and the others are doing; boy, they must be getting up there in years."

Vegeta didn't reply. Trunks looked nervously from his father to his mother.

"Well?" queried the only human in the room, turning to her husband.

He absently raised his right hand to stroke the beard that had once anointed his chin and horrified everyone he came in contact with. He stopped this when his daughter cleared his throat. He didn't have a choice, she was the one who had _forced _him to shave.

"I'm not sure if it'll be worth it," he said finally.

All three of the others were quite surprised. Vegeta, turning down fights? _Plural_?

He raised his right hand and began speaking in a business-like tone, dropping his fingers as he did so.

"Kakarot and the Namek are gone. Kakarot's younger son is a hopeless weakling. The triclops has gotten stronger but if I even powered up to Super Saiyan One he'd be history. You've been training, boy, but in a no-holds barred battle I'd demolish you," he stated, not even deigning to _look_ at his son as he spoke these words.

"The other human, the reincarnation of that overgrown wad of bubble-gum," Vegeta had never been able to call him 'Uub' unless he was directly addressing him, "and the eldest son of Kakarot are the only ones who'd give me a challenge. I'm just not sure if it'd be worth sacrificing training for a week or more just for two, maybe even one, fights with opponents I could face any time I wanted right here on Earth."

Bulma groaned inwardly. She was _not_ going to let her husband's ego get in the way of her first inter-galactic trip in decades.

"But there are fighters from all over the _galaxy_! There could be any number of fighters who'd give you a challenge!"

Vegeta smirked. "Please, woman. When I'm powered up to my max, any somewhat adept senser of energy can sense me a few stars away. If there was anyone outside Earth in that league, I'd know."

He got up and made for the door.

"If you're so eager to go, don't miss it on my account. Trunks can as well, though he'd be foolish to miss out on a week of training with _me _over some ridiculous tournament-..."

He had opened the door, and was just turning back to it, when his wife closed it.

He turned to stare at her.

She had a tight smile on her face. Trunks and Bra looked on impassively.

Vegeta knew that when his wife got this look, she was more dangerous than Frieza, Cell and Buu combined. It was a look she pulled out rarely from her arsenal, perhaps once every few years. The last time she had done it was when he realized his daughter was dating someone. He had demanded she reveal his identity, and she had steadfastly refused. Things could've gotten ugly, until Bulma had intervened with the _look_.

"Don't look at me that way, woman," he muttered.

His wife continued smiling sweetly at him.

"Honey, if you don't join us on the trip to Namek," she began.

Then she leaned in and whispered something to him the children couldn't hear. At least, she thought they couldn't. Both had advanced hearing due to their Saiyan genes, and the words made them both groan.

Vegeta went pale, then the anger began to build up.

However, she continued looking at him with that terrifyingly sweet look. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"We're not leaving until the last possible day; I want as much _real _training as possible."

He then reached over, grabbed his son's shoulder, and dragged him back to the Gravity Chamber, eager to beat him as badly as possible for being witness to his utter humiliation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raditz was spellbound by his apparent ally's words.

"But… how? I mean, you're…" he gestured to the halo above the Namekian's head wordlessly, "_dead_."

King Piccolo scoffed. "Dragon Balls, and indeed the dragon residing within them, require _energy_. It doesn't have to be vital energy that keeps a being alive, because the dragon itself is not truly alive and is more a being of energy."

He raised his right hand, and black electricity crackled across his fingers.

"And I have _plenty _of energy that's been building up after the training we've done over the last thirty years," as he stared at it.

Raditz continued with the dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Are you sure about this?"

The Namekian turned back to him, almost affronted. "Listen you little twit, if you want to be a part of this you'd better stop asking questions and do what I tell you."

Raditz was wired in a way that would normally cause him to respond to the insult with a punch, but he nodded wordlessly this time. Thirty-one years in this hellhole, and he might have actually found a ticket out of here. Back to the world of living where one thing and one thing only would take priority: _revenge_.

"To begin with, I'm going to need you to find a wide-open area with absolutely no witnesses. I don't care what you have to do. Beat the shit out of any stragglers, but it's crucial that no one knows what I'm up to. If your dear master Frieza or that blasted demon Babidi have even an inkling that a set of Dragon Balls are in Hell, they'll either step in and ruin the whole process, or attract the attention of the higher-ups in their attempt to do so. That would land the both of us in solitary for the next century, which wouldn't really help our cause, would it?"

Raditz nodded again. He knew just the spot.

Piccolo thrust his finger out. "Now go. I need time to configure the specifics of the new dragon before I actually begin to form it."

Raditz lifted off silently and made north.

He was heading for the canyon at the very limit of Hell, where Kakarot had fought Frieza and Cell when he had been tricked into entering Hell two years ago. It was a good location because it was permanently ice cold, and no one really enjoyed that kind of weather considering Hell was pretty much an ice-box anyway, except if one ventured near the volcanoes.

It took him a good twenty minutes to get there. He increased his altitude until he had literally a bird's eye view of the place.

There were two stragglers. Raditz recognized one as Dr. Wheelo, the apparently 'brilliant' doctor who had attempted to steal Kakarot's body. He was in his usual robotic vehicle that almost made him look like a robot to begin with. The other was a _frog_. For a minute, Raditz believed the old doctor was losing it, but then he realized the irony of the situation. He had heard that while Kakarot was on Namek, Captain Ginyu had attempted to change bodies with both him and Vegeta. In the process of the latter, he had had a frog thrown in the path of his path and was now permanently stuck in the amphibian's body.

Raditz shrivelled his nose. He didn't care much for Wheelo, but Ginyu in particular had gotten on his nerves for decades while he was forced to work for Frieza.

He would enjoy this.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raditz swung his neck from side to side, cracking the muscles in them that had been tightened up during the ninety seconds he had spent pounding the frog and his devious companion to near death. He would have happily extinguished Ginyu from existence, but the Other World had a system which alerted Yemma and the guardians of Hell as soon as a being was killed while dead, which resulted in their being lost forever. Raditz knew his vengeance could wait until he was alive and able to escape this dump.

The canyon he was in was surrounded by the hills on all sides, making it a very hard place to spot unless one was specifically looking for it.

He dusted his hands off as he saw Piccolo Daimao in the distance. Raditz had purposely not suppressed his power level, allowing the Namekian to sense where he was and follow.

The demon touched down, a casual smirk on his face.

"Are you ready?" inquired Raditz.

Daimao waved him away. "Stand watch. Anyone approaches; blast them out of the sky. If they're too strong, hold them off until I'm done here."

The Saiyan nodded. There weren't many inhabitants in Hell who were too strong for him to blast out of the sky.

The Namekian stalked over to the centre of the clearing and stretched both his hands out. He closed his eyes momentarily and murmured a few words.

When he reopened them, they were a stark crimson, which took Raditz aback for a minute.

He began murmuring in ancient Namekian. It was a language Raditz had never heard, because it was not as if too many other Namekians made their way to Hell for Piccolo Daimao to converse with. There was Lord Slug of course, but there existed an incredible enmity between the two for reasons Raditz did not care to fathom. He of all people understood the nuances of intra-race hatred, and didn't press the matter.

King Piccolo extended his right hand out in a spiny fist, with only his index finger pointing outward. He then fired out a very thin red beam, which struck the air a few feet from him and stopped. As he moved his finger, the beam left a trail in the air. It was as if he was using the beam on the air as one would a piece of chalk on a blackboard.

As Raditz looked closer, he could see that the former tormentor of Earth was drawing the outline of a dragon in the air with is energy beam. It was very rough and crude, as Raditz could barely make out the shape of its head as it was slightly triangle-shaped as compared to the length of its body, which was basically a curved line.

Finally, he was done, after what seemed to have been ages. His eyes returned to their normal white, and he stepped back with a heaving breath.

Raditz stepped forward and peered over his shoulder to get a look at his work.

It was jet-black in colour, though its underbelly was a mild grey. Blood red horns began at the base of its neck and extended all the way down its sinuous body and extended all the way down to the end of its tail, which was tipped with five different spikes at a ninety degree angle to it, making it look like some kind of demonic fan. The dragon's face was really just a circular cavern of teeth. It had two slit like eyes, whose colour Raditz could not make out with its present size.

He gave a low whistle.

"So this is it, huh?"

Daimao turned to glare at him. "Of course not, you _fool_. Does this look like an Eternal Dragon with the power to grant wishes to you? It's a goddamn model! And I thought I told you to keep watch!"

Raditz had plenty of retorts saved for a moment like this, but for once, he decided to keep mum. Though he was fuming at the tirade, he left it at that. The old man had to be humoured, for now.

He took a few steps back, and decided to keep watch on the sky, but kept a single eye on Daimao, who was bent over the creature, muttering incessantly in Namekian.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Goten was alone at the top of the mountain, training by himself.

He ducked an imaginary punch, and then sprayed his 'opponent' with a series of upward kicks. He then dodged once more, before obliterating a nearby boulder with a key blast.

"Careful, bro," laughed a voice from behind him. "If we keep this up, Mom's not going to have any rocks left to use in our garden path."

The hybrid turned to see his brother behind him, casually leaning against a tree with his hands in his pockets.

Goten grinned. "I was just getting in some work by myself. This tournament's going to be pretty tough."

Gohan nodded. "That's for sure. I was talking to Videl about it, and she said that Hercule told her he was making sure that anyone weaker than a Saiyan wouldn't be invited."

Goten dropped out of the air and landed on his feet before giving a low whistle.

"I guess that means my thoughts of you, me, Trunks and Vegeta in the semis just got harder."

Gohan shook his head. "You shouldn't be so overconfident. Uub is insanely strong. I had gone up to meet Dende the other day; he says Uub already finished his two days in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber a week after Dad left. Since then, he's been training by himself in a wasteland a few miles from West City basically all the time. Considering he was already stronger than Dad's base form _before_ he fused with Majin Buu, I think he could max out near a Super Saiyan two right now. If I didn't know how much work _I'd_ put in myself, I'd say he'd probably be the hot favourite to win the whole thing."

Goten threw a playful punch. "And since when did you become so confident?"

Gohan took the punch full on his chin. It barely left a scratch. He grinned. "Hey, if anyone else was whooping your behind every day of the week like I do, they'd be feeling pretty good about it too."

Goten stepped back and clenched his fists. His hair erupted upward and he went Super Saiyan. He laughed back.

"Let's see if you're so confident after I send you back home with your tail between your legs!"

Gohan sighed. "Goten, we've spoken about this. Transforming is not always the solution. There's a cap to the power level you can reach as a Super Saiyan. Then, it's only going to go up if you transform further, or get stronger in base. Since you haven't done the former yet, you need to work on the latter!"

Goten was seemingly oblivious to the criticism. He danced around his brother, jabbing playfully and tempting him to join in.

Gohan sighed internally. Despite everything, he knew Goten was still basically a child. He'd never experienced the weight of a pressure like Gohan did when he was fighting Cell or Super Buu when Goku was dead. He'd been training more since Goku left, obviously, but his disposition hadn't changed a bit. He still joked around while working out, and it never seemed like he was giving it his all. Gohan could hardly blame him, when _he_ was in his twenties he didn't train, period. But he didn't want his brother to make the same mistake of course.

He decided to try a different route.

"You know, just imagine if you're fighting Trunks in the knockout stages, and you transform. He'll just go Ascended Super Saiyan in reply and you'll be out of the ring before you can blink. Do you want _Bra _to see that?"

He trailed off with a knowing grin.

Goten's eyes widened. "Hey…! Where did you hear that?!"

Gohan threw back his head and began laughing hysterically. Between racks of mirth, he managed, "Come on! My daughter is her best friend!"

"That tears it," declared the younger Saiyan, darting forward and unleashing an uppercut.

Gohan decided to catch it in his right hand this time. Goten seemed slightly aggravated by his brother's good natured ribbing, and began unleashing a hail of punches and elbow jabs as fast as he could. These were combinations Gohan had drilled into him ages ago. It didn't occur to him that Gohan also knew the exact counter sequences, and that he would be better off pulling something fresh out of his book to break through.

"Your opponent isn't going to stay defensive forever, Goten," warned Gohan. He was blocking and dodging the flying blows with absurd ease.

"You're only saying that 'cuz I'm too much for you!" laughed his opponent.

Gohan lost his patience at that. He caught both fists one after the other, immobilizing his brother. With a short cry, he exploded into Super Saiyan. Goten's eyes widened. However, his brother didn't stop there. He continued onto Super Saiyan Two: the legendary transformation that felled Cell. His hair stood up almost vertically, and lighting flashes all along his body.

Goten almost backed away in shock. Gohan _never_ used Super Saiyan Two in their sparring sessions.

As if to prove that he could counter basically any time he wanted to, Gohan then unleashed a backhand that was probably a little stronger than he originally intended to be. It connected with Goten's face. Gohan thought it would only knock him off his feet and a few feet away, but instead he was sent into the opposite mountain.

Gohan winced. He hadn't used Super Saiyan Two on anyone else in a while, and was probably unaware of the kind of power boost it gave him relative to an opponent.

He waited a minute before calling out tentatively.

"Goten, you ok?"

The rocks shifted and the Saiyan's form emerged from the rocks. He had an accusing look on his face.

"What did you use Super Saiyan Two for?" he growled across the gap between the hills.

Gohan made a face. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard! I'm sorry, man!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry for this!"

He had been charging a small ki blast in his right hand while talking, and without warning he flung it at Gohan. It was as if it was in slow motion to the Super Saiyan Two. He caught it in his right hand and concentrated, causing the blast to wither into nothingness.

This drew a howl of frustration from his brother.

He looked up with a scowl. "You're just being immature now, Goten."

The younger Saiyan shook his head and lifted off, before blasting off into the horizon.

Gohan was about to follow him, but he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was Pan. "Don't."

Gohan dropped out of his transformed state and turned to look at her. He sighed.

"How much did you see?"

She glared at him. "Enough."

He shuffled nervously. "Enough to…?"

"Enough to know you mentioned something I told you in confidence, because, you know, it was regarding my best friend!"

Gohan groaned. "Ok, Pan, I'm sorry-…"

His daughter was furious, and couldn't be stopped. "I was the _only_ one who knew that Bra decided to end things with Goten because he was more serious about it than her and the _only_ reason I told you was because he was down when it happened and I didn't want you asking him about it! Just because _you_ ended up marrying your first and only girlfriend doesn't mean everyone else is that lucky, Dad!"

Gohan paused before beginning, "Now wait just a minute-…"

But she had already stamped her foot in a huff and walked away.

He was about to follow her, when his wife crept out warily from behind a tree.

Gohan shook his head. "What is it with my family sneaking up on me today?"

She replied with a soft, musical laugh. It was the laugh that had made him fall for her all those years ago.

He hugged her. "I manage to piss off my only two training partners two weeks before the biggest tournament of my life. PhD I may be, but…."

She pulled away and grinned. "I could give you a fight if need be."

He shook his head at the obvious joke. Gohan's little toe vs. Videl would not be a fair fight.

He gestured at the spot where Pan had been standing.

"You knew about this?"

She nodded. "He's my brother-in-law, for crying out loud. It's not as if your mother is someone he could talk to, neither are any of the airheads he hung out with at school. And well, Pan isn't exactly an expert at adult relationships."

Gohan grinned faintly. "I don't remember needing any advice when we were dating."

She smacked his shoulder.

"Pan's right, you know! We _did_ get lucky, but you have to appreciate that something like this isn't easy for everyone. Goten's had ninety-four meaningless, empty excuses for 'relationships', and-…"

Gohan's eyes bulged. "He keeps _count_? And he _told _you?"

Videl ignored him and continued. "And Bra was the first one he actually connected with! It was perfect, she was his best friend's sister, they had the same DNA composition for crying out loud, and it was someone whom Chi Chi wouldn't chase away with a frying pan! He had just about gotten ready to tell both families about it when she told him she wanted a 'break'."

Gohan nodded wisely. It was a rare thing that when a woman asked for a 'break' she was ready to get back together later on.

"So really, you can't blame him for being distracted. It's not like he can hang with you or Vegeta, or even Trunks, so the tournament is just an experience for him, nothing more."

Gohan rolled his eyes. "Ok, Dr. Phil."

She shook her head. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand. Just get back to the house with me and apologize to Pan. I'll talk to Goten later. There's a good chance he'll move back to his apartment in West City now though. He's sensitive about these things."

Gohan looked alarmed. "What am I going to do for a training partner then?!"

Videl shrugged, with a faint smile. "You're not transforming against Pan, so hit the Gravity Chamber. Or punch rocks. Because face it, Goten wasn't much practice for you anyway."

She walked off. Gohan followed her, but not before muttering to Yemma about all the drama that had been lacking in his own younger days being squashed into those of his brother and daughter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raditz was leaning against the cave wall, facing away from Daimao. He was pretty bored now. The whole 'birth of a new instrument of power' thing got old after about four hours. Raditz could swear he had had more fun watching Nappa's hair grow. Watching a green man crouch and mutter strange words lost its charm quickly.

Finally, he heard a roar of triumph. He turned absently to see King Piccolo finally on his feet.

He began walking toward him.

"You're done?"

He noted that there was _nothing_ in front of the Namekian.

His partner nodded. "Almost. Still need to create the Balls. Let me finish."

He extended a hand, and began muttering again. A flash of white erupted from his hand, and a spherical shape formed in front of him. It was the size of a large basketball. As the light began to fade, Raditz could make out further details. It retained the faint orange tone of the other sets of Dragon Balls, but there were some stark differences. To begin with, the stars on them weren't the usual red spots. Instead, they were silver in colour, and seemed to be large and rippling on the surface of the ball. The ball also seemed to be trembling.

Daimao continued to focus, and six more flashes from his hand resulted in six more Dragon Balls. Each one had the same silver, rippling stars on it, from one to seven on each one.

He then bent down, and muttered another incantation. This, Raditz could understand.

"_Strong though you may be…_"

He then thought he heard a distant and faint roar.

"_You're weaker than me_."

The roar grew louder.

"_I consign you hear for eternity_."

Raditz could have sworn he saw a fleeting black form flash through the air and into the balls.

"_For freedom, grant me wishes three_."

He then stood up abruptly.

"It's done."

He turned to look at the Saiyan, his grin widened. "It's done," he repeated.

Raditz felt his pulse rising. Waiting twelve hours while the Namekian did his work was _nothing_ compared to the prospect of being free after over thirty years.

"Do it."

King Piccolo turned to the Balls, and stretched his hands out before speaking in a loud growl.

"Blight, Eternal Dragon of Hell, I summon you!"

The new Dragon Balls began to vibrate. Raditz had heard plenty of the summoning of an Eternal Dragon but never actually been present at one. Therefore, he was more than a bit surprised when the dark nothingness that was the ceiling of Hell began to rumble. Lightning flashed, and the air around them grew thinner. The temperature began to drop.

Raditz stepped away nervously as the Balls glowed with silver energy. From within them, a single, thin, pencil-like beam erupted upward. He followed it with his eyes as it pierced the darkness around them and slammed into the very top of Hell. It stopped, and slowly began to thicken as more and more of the beam continued to ensue from the Dragon Balls, instead flaring out behind the form.

As it thickened, its features began to take shape. It looked roughly like the model Raditz had seen Daimao make earlier, but now he could see its true horrible magnificence in all their glory. Its jaws were extremely long and pointed; resembling the snout of a dolphin but if it had been tipped with a razor. Inside, its teeth flashed, longer than school buses. It had a pair of flitting crimson eyes framed by a gigantic crown of silver horns that ran all the way across its body, as Raditz recalled.

The body itself was _shockingly_ long. Raditz doubted that if it actually decided not to curl itself so many times and extended straight from end to end, it probably wouldn't fit in Hell. Its underbelly was white, while its back was jet-black. Its tail was not visible this time of course, as it was still embedded somewhere in the silver glow of the Dragon Balls it came from.

When Blight spoke, its voice was greater and more terrible than anything Raditz had ever heard.

"_**Name thy wishes so that I may return to my slumber."**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**To my YGO readers, this chapter should make it rather obvious I still have Nightrise on my mind! I never said this before, but don't worry fellas, that story will not be abandoned. **


	4. Rebirth of Destruction

CHAPTER THREE: Rebirth of Destruction

Piccolo Jr. was tired. He had honestly been tired ever since he had found himself trapped in Hell, though he was probably the denizen of the place with the best quality of life. He never found the time to meditate in peace as he often used to either on Kami's Lookout or deep in isolated deserts. The place was simply too chaotic, and there was always trouble popping up once in a while which Piccolo needed to deal with.

He had been offered a place in Heaven instead by Yemma, but that was the opposite side of the spectrum for him. There was no way he could spend an eternity in a drearily peaceful location with no action. If he was given a role similar to Pikkon's, living in Heaven but basically keeping an eye on Hell and dropping by whenever he was needed, he would consider that. But the other green warrior was absurdly strong, and Yemma would not take his position away so easily.

For the first time in a while, Piccolo felt as if some modicum of calm had descended on the place. The usual trouble makers like Frieza and his henchmen had all been smacked around by him recently, meaning they needed time to lick their wounds. Cell was the only one who really gave him trouble. The fact was that he'd been dead for nearly twenty-five years, and had had nothing to do but train. Piccolo himself had put in a lot of work since their last fight all those years ago before Cell had absorbed Android 17, but the bio-android's variety of abilities and superior fighting intellect made him a tough match. In the few cases when he _did_ decide to break the lethargy of his current existence and cause some problems, Pikkon was always on hand to lend his fist to Piccolo's and subdue the uprising.

Piccolo sat down against a rock, and closed his eyes. No noticeable power entered his sensory gaze. Perhaps it was time for him to grab a quick rest, before the next foolish creature decided to cause some problems.

Just as he was about to doze off, he felt it. It was unmistakable.

It made him stand up stock straight, trembling with shock and disbelief. As much as he told himself he was wrong, he knew the truth. Only one energy signal felt like that.

The energy of an Eternal Dragon.

And deep down, Piccolo realized there could be only one person responsible for this. There was no one else who had the necessary knowledge.

He clenched his fist tightly enough to draw drops of purple blood from his palm.

"_You decrepit old bastard, I'm not going to let you abuse the power of our people_."

He let out an energy-enhanced roar as his aura boomed out around him, and he then took off in the direction of the colossal negative power.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

King Piccolo had a truly sadistic grin on his face as he held his arms out in an arrogant flourish.

Raditz was too awestruck for words at first. He couldn't stop staring at the gigantic beast that was floating above them. It radiated a type of magical energy that resembled a God, but Raditz knew no God could be so terrible in appearance and nature. Its words sounded as if they were coming directly from the mouth of the Beast itself.

The Demon King had indeed been true to his word, this beast was the key to Raditz's plan of ultimate vengeance.

King Piccolo glanced back at him. "Make your wish. As much effort as I put into this, I'm not risking myself with the power of a completely new dragon right from the get go."

He walked over to the creature and spoke harshly. Now was his time.

"Blight, for my first wish, I want you to revive the dead race of the Saiyans, but _it's only the strongest and_ _most vicious members_!"

King Piccolo didn't say a word.

The dragon paused, as if contemplating the nature of the wish, and whether it was within its capabilities.

In the end, the genius of the Nameless Namek won out.

"_**Your wish has been granted**_."

Raditz gave a dark grin, and closed his eyes, expecting the sparky vitality of life to begin to wash over him any second.

He remained in that pose for a minute. No feeling arrived. He opened his eyes and looked around stupidly. The Demon King was glaring at him.

"You fool," he snarled. "Your halo is still present."

Raditz blinked. "What? I just made the wish!"

The Demon King was shaking with rage. "You incompetent bastard! You wished for the _strongest_ Saiyans to be brought back to life! Evidently you're not among them."

Raditz felt something die inside of him.

He didn't respond.

"_All these years. All this training_."

His opposite number didn't seem to notice his internal trauma, and continued ranting.

"You wasted a goddamn wish! Now, a bunch of your former playmates are going to be running around, alive and well, and thanks to you neither of us has joined them yet. Our involvement comes to a close here. Get _out_ of my sight."

He then turned back to the dragon, his mind still in upheaval at the boneheadedness of this man he had actually thought of as a partner. No wonder Frieza had decided to exterminate the entire race, it was merely a case of cleaning up the gene pool.

He got his breathing under control and then began to speak.

"Blight, I wish-…."

_THWACK._

Daimao was hit on the side of his face with a _ferocious_ drop kick. It was probably the strongest blow he had felt since Son Goku had torn right through him all those decades ago. It took him right off his feet and powered him through the air into a nearby mountain.

Raditz landed in a crouch, a sadistic grin rising on his face.

He looked up at the dragon and spoke.

"For the second wish, I want you to bring me back to life."

Blight glowed dark again.

"_**Your wish has been granted**_."

Raditz felt it almost immediately. His skin, which had a permanent pale look and cold and clammy feel since he had died, now returned to its usual tone and shed the pallor. He felt a warmth rising inside of him that he could not describe, a tingling that rose to his fingertips and almost made him tremble. It was a feeling he knew he had experienced only once before, at birth, and it was obviously too long gone to remember.

He flicked his eyes upward. The ever-present prison that was the halo above his forehead was gone too.

"I'm alive," he whispered, clenching his fist. Veins of power began to crackle around it.

Thirty years, gone in a flash. But this wasn't done yet.

"For my third wish, I want you to make me a _**SUPER SAIYAN**_**!**"

The towering black dragon considered this momentarily. He then glowed again once more.

"**Your wish has been granted. Farewell**."

Even as he glowed a dark black and then began to shrink back into the Dragon Balls, taking the upheaval of the elements with him, the effects of the Eternal Dragon's spell began to work their wonders on the former third class warrior's body.

A white hot sensation flooded his senses, much different from the previous, enjoyable warmth. He spread his legs and bent his knees, bringing his hands up in two tight fists. The power he felt himself radiating was burrowing a hole in the ground beneath him.

"**THIS POWER IS MINE!**"

His muscles began to bulge past their usual limits, straining against the black armor he'd been wearing for the last thirty years. His pupils began to dilate, and then flash in and out of visibility. As his neck twitched up and down, taking his head with it, his normal jet black hair began to flash into a different colour. At first, it was just translucent, but soon, it took on a goldenish hue, and instead of falling downward across his back as it usually did, it began to flare out behind him, as if a gust of wind was holding it there.

The power he felt was already amazing, but he kept pushing it further and further, letting out one animalistic roar after another. His fists were clenched so tight that blood began to seep out.

Raditz saw the past, present and future flash before his eyes. His father, Bardock, who had died when he was just a few years old. A preoccupied and vicious man who had little time to spend time with a wide-eyed, admiring son. Frieza, the murderer of his people, lounging languidly in his throne with some wine, declaring that Raditz was the weakest monkey he had ever seen. Vegeta, the arrogant prince, ordering Raditz to Earth without caring whether he lived or died as a consequence.

It was the final image that did it, though. He saw Kakarot, that traitorous murderer, _his brother_, wagging his right finger and shaking his head sadly as if he were reprimanding a child for a wrongdoing.

He let out a primal sound, and something snapped inside him. He bent his back further, jutting his neck out, and let out one final shriek as his aura exploded completely. It would have blinded anyone in the vicinity had they been there.

Finally, it began to die down.

When it cleared completely, Raditz was a sight to behold. Nearly every muscle in his body, from triceps to hamstrings, had expanded well beyond its normal limits and was looking as if he had indulged in copious amount of whey protein shakes. His hair had turned a vibrant golden. Normally his hair already grazed his knees, but now it would probably get trapped underneath his ankles if it wasn't flaring out behind him as was normal with such transformations. It was a vibrant golden that was extremely out of place with the usual dull and dark atmosphere of Hell.

The biggest change was in his eyes however. They had gone from his usual shade of grey to a deep aqua-blue. They seemed filled with life and energy like never before. A miniscule blue flame was dancing inside his pupils.

He glanced at the spot that Blight had been. He was gone now, leaving only the seven Balls in his wake.

Raditz let out a bark like laugh and raised his right hand, allowing black energy bolts to weave their way around his fingers. Who knew it could be that easy?

His attention was then drawn to the rubble of the mountain he had kicked his former partner into. Daimao was emerging from it, and boy, was he angry.

Raditz laughed again. This wasn't the ideal test of his new power, considering that in scouter power level terms he was probably in the range of the hundreds of millions and Daimao was probably beneath Frieza's first form, but it was better than nothing.

"YOU TRAITOR!" came a wild shriek. "I WILL TEAR YOU **LIMB FROM LIMB**!"

The villainous green warrior kicked off the rock he was standing on and was upon Raditz in a heartbeat. He unleashed a powerful right hook, then a left jab, and completed the combination with a spinning kick that landed squarely on the Super Saiyan's jaw.

Even as the end of Daimao's heel rested there, Raditz's smile didn't drop.

"Come on, old man, a little bit to the right, I have an itch there."

The Namekian let out another shriek. His mental faculties were completely gone, replaced only by an incessant and unquenchable thirst for the Saiyan's blood. He dropped back onto both feet and took about ten steps back. He raised the index and middle finger of his right hand to his forehead, and began to growl.

Raditz chuckled. He remembered this technique very well. It had enabled this fool's son to kill him after all, but the younger Namekian had at least been in the same order of magnitude as him. The attack could help one overcome an initial power gap of even 400%, but Daimao was an absolute mite compared to him. No attack would make him even remotely relevant.

"_**SPECIAL BEAM CANNON**_!"

The Namekian snapped his arm forward at the elbow, and a two-parted beam issued forth from the two digits. It consisted of a straight and yellow ray of energy, which was surrounded by a spiralling one from the base all the way to the bulb-like tip.

Raditz's arms were still folded. He merely raised his head up and caught the blow right on the base of his chin. As it detonated, it caused a smokescreen that temporarily blinded Daimao.

He swivelled this way and that, blinking through the billowing ash and smoke while looking for his target. As he took a step back, he felt himself bump into a towering form.

"If it was a few thousand times stronger… I might have felt it."

Daimao wheeled around, but as soon as he did, he felt a vice like grip curl itself around his throat.

"You think you could disrespect the Saiyan race and get away with it?" whispered Raditz coldly. He didn't expect an answer of course. His hand was squeezing tight enough that Daimao couldn't even move his head.

"There's a penalty involved, you green freak," he continued, looking into the thrashing man's eyes.

A dark smile flickered across his face.

"Infinite and inescapable suffering."

He pressed down just a little harder, and the pressure reached tipping point. Daimao's head had already swollen to the size of a bulbous watermelon. Thanks to the little added force, it literally exploded where it was, soaking Raditz's hand with blood and brain fluids.

He tossed the headless body to the side and threw his head back, laughing for five solid minutes.

No better way to welcome oneself back to the world of the living than killing a dead man, he mused, before swinging his neck from side to side to draw a couple of cracks.

Time to greet some old friends.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

King Yemma had put the line in the check-in station on hold. That was only done on the rarest of rare occasions, but the judge of the dead was fairly certain that an uprising in Hell was something worth pausing for. It was one thing if some moron like Frieza or Cell decided to mess about; he could just send Pikkon in to deal with them.

This was different. Several ungodly powerful souls had been wished _back to life_. Yemma was certain there was only one set of Dragon Balls in the Universe that was currently active, and he had immediately checked with Moori, the Guardian of Namek, to see if someone had utilized the Namekian Balls, to which the elderly man had replied that no such event had occurred. In fact, the Namekians had put out a planet wide ban on the use of the Balls after hearing of the ones on Earth overloading with negative energy.

That left just one solution: a new set of Balls had been created. Considering the wishes that had been made, it was fairly evident that the person in control of these Balls did not wish the Universe well at all. Despite all the variety of threats existence had faced under Yemma's watchful eye, the saving grace was that not a single villain had made a successful wish with the Dragon Balls.

Now that had changed of course. Yemma could not even begin to imagine the unthinkable havoc that could be wrecked by a denizen of Hell armed with the ability to alter reality any way he saw fit.

Something _had _to be done.

He had called on Baba, the fortune-telling witch, and sought her advice.

The old lady had consulted her crystal ball and determined reinforcements from Heaven were the only alternative. Piccolo had no chance of standing up to what was to come by himself.

So Yemma had called on to of Heaven's less noted warriors. They were out of the limelight, but ferociously strong and both were committed to keeping the order of things.

They were Android 16 and Dabura, the former King of Demons.

The two towering (by normal terms, both were mites compared to Yemma) men stood impassively at the base of Yemma's desk.

16 spoke cautiously. "Am I to understand that you require me to go to Hell and crush the Saiyan uprising, which consists of the names you mentioned?"

Yemma nodded. "But be careful. The two of you will need to join Piccolo to do this. The ones I told you about are absurdly powerful. As Saiyans, they receive massive power boosts from near death experiences. Actually being dead for decades is exponentially more of a benefit. Not to mention the two of you are already dead, and they are not, meaning that's a handicap right there."

Dabura cracked his knuckles. "Not to worry sir. 16 and I have been training for years on end, we'll put an end to this misguided behaviour."

Yemma nodded darkly. "You'll have backup if need be. I'm keeping Pikkon here as a trump card in case you fail, because I have a bad feeling this is going to get very ugly and I want the check-in station and the Planet of the Kais to have a fall back option."

He pressed a button on his desk, and a sinkhole opened in the floor in front of him.

"That portal will take the both of you straight to Hell, just a few clicks from Piccolo. Once you'll are finished, Piccolo will communicate that to me and I will bring you back."

The two giants walked towards it shoulder to shoulder, and as soon as each one had one foot in, they disappeared from view.

Yemma pressed his hands against his eyes and sighed. He stared back at the paper in front of him. It had the names of the Saiyans that had been revived.

A shiver went down his spine, which was a very uncommon thing. He was glad he wasn't 16 or Dabura right now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**I know it's short, my apologies. Just felt it was a good place to end. Good news for my Nightrise readers: I think I'm almost at the point where I'll be ready to resume this story. In case I do, this will become a side project for a bit, because I want to finish Nightrise before I head to university.**

**Anyway, enjoy this for now, and please review!**


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